Tough Dirt
an excerpt

The man’s stance was carefully positioned. Lance adjusted his own, gripped carefully on his upper katana and swallowed back the spit in his mouth. His opponent opposite was careful to note the grip. It was one of a nervous man, a newby perhaps, taking his first teetering steps in the league. His eyes flicked back up the face. It was serious and relaxed. His stance read otherwise, but beyond that, this man was a trained fighter.

San eased a crick in his neck, and drew his katana a little. At that instant, the man opposite swiftly took a leap forwards, katana already drawn to launch an attack. Lance drew his own, and took a step back pulling his swords up defend himself. His opponent moved left, Lance moved left. Still no sign of an attack. Then suddenly his opponent was gone. A feint move! Lance looked about, and then saw opponent crouched below his outstretched arm.

“That was quick” his opponent grinned, his head hidden by an eastern bamboo hat, which was curved and rounded, with a point at the centre, tied onto the man’s head by a string running beneath his chin. “Normally it takes me a good few minutes to find an opening within my opponent’s defence, but you my young friend were remarkably easy.”

Lance’s eyes stayed wide, still watching the man beneath his out-stretched arm. Neither had moved. Lance’s arm was straight, one of his katanas held there at the end in a defensive position. His opponent was crouched down by his knee, his own katana drawn but tucked away in the folds of his robes. Lance’s mouth was almost as wide as his eyes. He tried to say something but only a low gasping noise was heard as his dry mouth clambered at words.

“Oh well, it’s over now kid”